


Flipping Pyrrhus on His Head

by Kinematic



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: (they're both really drunk so if that bothers you don't read), A pyrrhic loss?, Anal Fingering, I Don't Even Know, I made this up okay it's completely fake, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oscar Night 2018, This is whatever the opposite of a Pyrrhic victory is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinematic/pseuds/Kinematic
Summary: "'You should have won,' Armie said, nuzzling his ear. It’s probably the twentieth time tonight he’s echoed that sentiment, but now, in private, it’s taken on a whole new meaning."In other words, Armie fingers Timmy in a coat closet at an Oscars after party.





	Flipping Pyrrhus on His Head

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all I wrote this in like an hour and half so it's totally unbeta'd. Also, I made everything up so please don't sue. 
> 
> Hope you like it.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed, but after one, or two, or five flutes of champagne and two shots of something murky, that feeling started to melt away. And now, being pushed into a darkened coat room and up against a wall, Timmy had begun to forget nearly everything that transpired during the ceremony. 

“You should have won,” Armie said, nuzzling his ear. It’s probably the twentieth time tonight he’s echoed that sentiment, but now, in private, it’s taken on a whole new meaning. 

“’S ‘kay” Timmy murmured, giving a quick tug to Armie’s red velvet lapels to pull him closer. Earlier in the night, Timmy joked that he didn’t just look like a snack in that Armani suit, but a cake. Armie nodded like he knew. Of course he did. 

“God,” Armie said, hand coming to rest at Timmy’s throat, “I want to wreck you.” 

Timmy swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Perhaps it was foolish for them to think they could hide away like this and it would go completely unnoticed, but at least for the moment, no one had come to look for them in the coat room.

Fortunately, the coats made for a plush backdrop for Timmy’s head as Armie began to fumble with his belt. Timmy had long ago shucked off his own jacket, draping it over some beautiful white cloth chair at dinner. He now worked at his bowtie, quickly tossing it to the floor, and then  the buttons of his shirt. He was only to his breastbone when Armie tugged his hand away.

“Leave it,” he said. Armie had a thing for dirty, passionate sex, and semi-clothed and semi-public perfectly fit that narrative. Armie was, of course, still fully dressed.

Armie spun him around, too, pressing his cheek against someone’s very nice trench coat. By this point, Timmy’s pants were down around his ankles. He was humming contentedly as Armie did the same to his underwear, but he gasped immediately at the feeling of blunt fingers outside his entrance.

“Please,” Timmy exhaled slowly. “You don’t need anything. I’m so drunk I can’t feel a thing.”

Armie laughed softly, breaths tickling the back of Timmy’s neck. He, too, smelled strongly of alcohol. They both had way, way too much to drink. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Timmy shivered at the deep, dark rumble of Armie’s voice. It was all just too much.

Just as Armie assured, he had no intention of going in dry. He had a small, discreet bottle of lube, which he warmed up in his palms before slathering some of its contents along Timmy’s crack.

“I want you,” Timmy whispered. There was a beautiful vulnerability there, in his voice. Just as he was when he was sober, he was a sentimental and emotional drunk. 

Just as the tip of one finger slid in, Armie said, “You have me.” Timmy sucked in air through his teeth, body adjusting slowly to the intrusion. “But tonight is all about you. Like you deserve.”

Armie began to push further before curling his finger. He was met with an immediate gasp from Timmy, to which he replied with yet another tantalizing brush against Timmy’s prostate. 

“Ah—” Timmy panted. “You’re gonna kill me. I mean it.”

Armie placed his free hand over Timmy’s mouth, slipping two fingers past his lips. The slick warmth of Timmy’s mouth sent Armie’s own blood southward, but tonight was, as he promised, about Timmy. 

“Shh—we’re in a coat room, remember?” There was levity in his words, but his tone carried the authority of someone who knew he was in total control. 

Timmy swallowed the saliva that had begun to pool around Armie’s fingers. “I’m not gonna last,” he said, words muffled in a way that made Armie smile. Timmy was effortlessly endearing—it was just that simple.

“That’s okay,” Armie replied, slipping in a second thick finger and curling once more against Timmy’s prostate. “You’re still a teenager.”

Timmy groaned softly, rubbing his nose against the wool coat in front of him. Hopefully Willem Dafoe wouldn’t mind too much. 

“Not a teenager,” he said, spitting out Armie’s fingers. Armie ran his hand through Timmy’s hair, then kissed the side of his forehead.

The sound of a creaking door briefly halted Armie’s ministrations. Timmy tensed up immediately, surging forward as if the coats could shelter him. They were both silent as Armie evaluated whether or not they were caught—if they should pretend nothing ever happened or make it even more obvious that they were having sex. At least if they did the latter, whoever had entered would probably just leave, too embarrassed to linger any longer even if they needed something from the closet.

They heard some bewildered words from the staff before the door was closed again. Apparently, which they would learn later, someone got sick in the ballroom. They kept an extra mop in the coat closet, it seemed. Though the crisis was quickly averted, it was enough to make Armie and Timmy realize that they needed to hurry up. 

“New plan,” Armie purred, speeding up his fingers and beginning to stroke Timmy’s erection. Timmy’s eyes rolled back in his head, but he was prepared to hear what Armie was going to say next. “Just don’t get anything on anyone’s jacket, okay? Cover yourself.”

Timmy nodded, one hand flying down to his leaking head. His other hand gripped the closet rod like gravity could be switched off at any second. “Mmm-hmm. God, Armie.”

“I know, baby boy. Just be good for me.”

Timmy couldn’t see straight, and at this point, it was hard to tell if it was because of the alcohol or the hands on his body or the fact that he had lost the Oscar. In any case, he didn’t want this moment to end and yet couldn’t stand it another minute.

“Armie,” he whimpered. “I want—please. I can’t—”

“I know, Tim, I know.” 

“Please.”

That was it.

“Come for me,” Armie said, doubling his efforts. It took no more than three strokes on his prostate and dick before Timmy was spilling into his own hand. Armie bit down on Timmy’s neck as he rode out his orgasm, then soothed the red spot with his tongue once Timmy was finished.

“Shit,” was all Timmy could manage as he turned around to face Armie once again. He looked down at his hand, now striped with semen. “Um, you—uh, got a napkin?”

Armie gave a smirk before reaching down, grabbing Timmy’s wrist, and licking across his palm.

“Shit,” Timmy repeated, totally mesmerized.

Armie then grabbed Timmy by either side of his face and pressed his own tongue into Timmy’s mouth. The semen and saliva that mixed on their tongues was nothing short of disgusting, but also magical.

“I want to marry you,” Timmy said as Armie pulled away. In that perfect Timmy-fashion, his words were both funny and sweetly sincere.

Armie leaned over to pick up Timmy’s discarded bowtie as Timmy pulled up his trousers. “That’s sweet, but bigamy is illegal.” 

Timmy smiled when Armie grabbed his sleeve and tied the bowtie neatly around his wrist. “Nobody will notice you’re not wearing it,” Armie assured. 

Timmy trusted him. Sure, it would make the bruise at his neck much more obvious as the night went on, but they were too far gone to even care.

 


End file.
